What if we’re missing something other than knowledge? What if courage is the missing step between knowing and doing?
If nobody thanked you, recognised you, or approved of what you were doing, would you still do it?
Imagine regularly picking up rubbish from a public space. At first, people notice. They thank you. They tell you that you are doing something good. Then the recognition disappears. Would you continue?
The question led us into a much bigger conversation about approval, freedom, courage, boundaries, rejection, and why we do the things we do.
Are we living for ourselves or for approval?
One of the ideas that struck us was how easily doing something “good” can become connected to recognition. If I only continue when someone thanks me, what is actually motivating me? And if my choices depend on other people’s approval, how free am I?
The discussion moved into family expectations.
We talked about the example in the book of someone choosing a life very different from the one his parents wanted for him. The disagreement wasn’t simply about career. It was about something deeper:
Who gets to decide how another adult should live?
Many of us recognised this pattern. Parents, relatives, neighbours and even friends can have strong opinions about what someone else should do with their career, relationships, money or family.
Several people felt that this was particularly visible in older generations, although the group also challenged the idea that it belonged to one particular culture.
Across different countries, many of us had experienced some version of “You should do this.” “Why are you doing that?” “That isn’t how life is supposed to be lived.” Sometimes the hardest part of becoming an adult isn’t gaining independence.
It is having the courage to actually use it.
We became more individualistic. But did we become freer?
This became one of the most interesting questions of the evening.
Many of us now live far away from our families. We move between countries. We choose unconventional careers. We work independently. We have access to enormous networks through the internet. Compared with previous generations, our lives can appear much more individualistic.
But does that mean we are psychologically freer? Perhaps not.
We may no longer live in a village where everyone knows everyone else’s business, but we now have social media. The audience changed. The desire to be accepted didn’t necessarily disappear.
One participant pointed out that human beings seem to carry two needs at the same time: the desire for independence and the desire for belonging.
We want to be ourselves. But we also want to be accepted.
We want freedom. But we don’t necessarily want the social consequences that sometimes come with exercising that freedom.
So perhaps the courage to be disliked is really the courage to tolerate that tension.
Can I remain connected to other people without surrendering my life to their expectations?
Sometimes people dislike what they are afraid to do themselves
One participant shared a story that completely changed the direction of our conversation. Someone she knew was disliked by several colleagues. Initially, it was easy to assume that there must simply be something unlikeable about this person. But after thinking more deeply about it, another possibility emerged.
This person was doing things that others didn’t have the courage to do.
Despite having less experience than some colleagues, she saw an opportunity, volunteered herself, approached leadership, and created a new role for herself. She was audacious. And perhaps some of the discomfort around her wasn’t really about who she was. Perhaps her behaviour confronted other people with something they were afraid to do themselves.
That led to a fascinating moment of self reflection.
Sometimes when someone irritates us, it may be worth asking:
What exactly is this person triggering in me?
Maybe they really are behaving badly.
But perhaps sometimes they are simply doing something we secretly wish we had the courage to do.
Being disliked doesn’t automatically mean that we are courageous, of course. But courage sometimes carries the risk of being disliked.
Maybe knowledge isn’t what we’re missing
Another idea from the book generated a lot of discussion: lifestyle.
We normally use the word to describe how we live: our routines, habits, food, work or hobbies.
But in the discussion, lifestyle was understood more deeply as our tendency of thought and action, including how we see ourselves and how we see the world.
“I can’t do this.” “I’ll probably be rejected.” “I’m shy.” “I’m not qualified enough.” “Maybe I’ll do it tomorrow.”
These thoughts don’t remain thoughts, they shape our actions. If I believe I cannot do something, I may never take the first step.
Someone else might think: “I don’t know how to do this yet, but I’ll figure it out.” That person takes one step, meets someone, learns something, finds another opportunity and gradually creates a completely different path.
The discussion therefore arrived at a very NoCrastination kind of question:
What if knowledge isn’t what we’re missing? What if courage is the missing step between knowing and doing?
We can understand exactly what needs to change. But without action, nothing moves. Courage is what carries knowledge across the gap into action.
How often is our personality actually protection?
This became even more interesting when someone reflected on fear of rejection. The book gives an example of someone who wants to approach another person but describes herself as too shy. But what if shyness is also protecting her from finding out whether she will be rejected?
This resonated beyond relationships. We talked about professional opportunities too. Sometimes we procrastinate, we tell ourselves we aren’t ready. And sometimes tomorrow keeps becoming tomorrow until the desire itself disappears.
It raises an uncomfortable question: Is this really who I am, or is this a strategy that protects me from an outcome I’m afraid to face?
Perhaps “I’m a procrastinator,” “I’m shy,” or “I’m not good at this” shouldn’t always be treated as permanent identities.
Sometimes they may be descriptions of behaviours we have learned because those behaviours make something uncomfortable easier to avoid.
Inferiority can become an excuse or information
The conversation then moved to feelings of inferiority. Social media makes comparison incredibly easy. Someone has a better degree, communicates better, built a bigger company, we can look at that difference and conclude:“I don’t have what they have, therefore I can’t do what I want to do.”
But another interpretation is possible. If I notice that I lack knowledge, I can learn. The feeling of inferiority itself doesn’t have to determine what happens next. It can become either a reason to withdraw or information that helps us move forward.
What about people we genuinely dislike?
Then our philosophical conversation became extremely practical. What do you actually do when there is someone you simply don’t like? One participant described having to occasionally meet someone whose presence affected her so much that she tried not to look at the person’s facial expressions. She wondered whether avoiding the situation was cowardice or simply self-protection.
This opened up a surprisingly funny but honest discussion about avoidance, ignoring messages, becoming less available, keeping a poker face and gradually creating distance. But underneath the humour was a serious question:
Why does this person affect me so much?
Sometimes avoiding someone may be appropriate. Sometimes stronger boundaries may be needed. But sometimes our intense reaction tells us something about ourselves too.
What does this person trigger? What are we afraid they will ask from us?Why does seeing their name on our phone immediately create anxiety?
Perhaps the person isn’t the only thing we’re avoiding. We may also be avoiding the feeling, obligation, conflict or guilt that comes with them.
Why do we sometimes try harder to please people we dislike?
This was one of our favourite discoveries of the evening. Several of us realised that we sometimes put more effort into people we dislike than people we genuinely like. We become extra polite. Extra careful. We spend longer writing messages. We try harder to avoid conflict. We manage every word because we don’t want our true feelings to show. And afterwards, we’re exhausted.
Why are we giving so much emotional energy to relationships we don’t even want? Perhaps people-pleasing isn’t always kindness. Sometimes it is simply a way of covering up discomfort.
One idea that emerged was not to suddenly become rude or cold, but to gradually stop overperforming warmth. Be respectful. Be civil. But don’t force yourself to manufacture intimacy that isn’t there. Save some of that warmth, attention and energy for the relationships you actually value.
But humans still need recognition
The discussion didn’t end with a simplistic conclusion that we should stop caring what anyone thinks. One participant challenged that idea. Human beings are social. Recognition feels good. Encouragement can help us continue. A supportive environment can make it easier to become the person we want to become.
So perhaps the goal isn’t complete detachment from everyone else. Perhaps the more important question is:
Where does the primary motivation come from?
Am I doing something because I genuinely believe in it?
Or am I doing it mainly because I need someone else to confirm that I am good, successful, worthy or important? That distinction led us to social media.
Would you still create if nobody applauded?
Imagine starting a YouTube channel. If your main motivation is views, likes and going viral, the beginning can be painful. You publish. Almost nobody watches. You publish again. Still nothing. Eventually, it becomes difficult to continue because the reward you were waiting for isn’t arriving.
But what if you create because you genuinely want to express an idea, share knowledge, make art or put your perspective into the world? Of course you still want people to see it. But your reason for creating doesn’t completely depend on their reaction. And this connects beautifully with one of the central ideas we discussed:
What you put into the world is your responsibility. How another person responds is theirs.
You can write the article, publish the video, start the business, tell someone how you feel, choose the unconventional career, live according to your values. But you cannot completely control the response, trying to control that response is precisely where we begin giving away our freedom.
The courage to be disliked isn’t about wanting to be disliked
After our discussion, this became much clearer to us. The title can sound confrontational.
But The Courage to Be Disliked isn’t about becoming unpleasant or deliberately rejecting other people.
It points toward something much more difficult:
having enough courage to live according to your own values while accepting that not everyone will approve.
We still need people, want belonging, appreciate recognition and care about our families, friends and communities. But freedom begins when approval stops being the condition for action.
When we can say:
I would love your support, but I don’t need your permission.
I would love your recognition, but it isn’t the reason I do this.
I would prefer to be liked, but I won’t build my entire life around avoiding being disliked.
And maybe that is the real challenge: becoming someone who can care deeply about other people without abandoning themselves.